


From The Nothing

by crying_colors



Series: From the Nothing [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Powers, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Race is blind but only during the day, Slow Burn, Vague Descriptions of Violence Early On, but mostly angst esp later on, especially race and crutchie, it's weird and complicated, please they all need hugs, race doesn't like being touched but he lives for hugs it's a complicated relationship, the tags make this seem like a shitpost but i swear its not, the title is weird i'm sorry i'll probably change it later, there's still more experiment areas that are going on that comes into play later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 16,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crying_colors/pseuds/crying_colors
Summary: The year was 2099. Ten years ago, crime rates had gone through the roof, to the point where nobody was safe- even in their own homes. That was, until one by one, the children of the criminals started getting captured. The villains, fearing for their children’s safety, disappeared. The children, however, had gotten caught by government agents, locked in tiny white cells hidden underground. Scientists did experiments on them, gave them powers and trained them to be stronger than humans. The thing was, these experiments usually came with painful side effects. Finally though, after ten years, a small band of rebels has teamed together to break out the children who had been locked away like animals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just one big mess after another.

Adjusting his hoodie- which was black, just like everything else covering Spot Conlon from head to toe and hiding his features- him and the little band of rebels made their way silently through the underground tunnels.

 

Spot couldn’t say he was friends with any of the people in the small group. Most of the kids were from Manhattan, and had started the group because some of the people who had been captured were close to them. Actually, there were only two kids who weren’t Manhattan- Thompson Leblanc, a spitfire whose family was much better off than everyone else’s, possibly combined; and a girl everyone called Slink as she didn’t tell anyone her name. Spot didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her. Outside of those two, Spot only knew the names of two other people- Jack, who functioned as the leader for it all, and Blink, who helped keep the kids organized.

 

Spot couldn’t place why he had joined the group either, it was likely just the immense feeling of _wrong_ that had pooled in his gut when the public found out what had happened with the children. Everyone in the group had been in their early teens at latest, and the tests had been going on for years even before everyone found out why the children had disappeared.

 

His thoughts were broken when they reached the main door to the lab. The door was huge, made of heavy wrought-iron that just looked _threatening_. Despite the menacing appearance, there was only a single lock that kept the lab separate from the tunnels. Slink was the one who stepped forward, expertly starting to fiddle with the metal. There was a soft click, and the lock then landed softly in the gloved hands of the girl who had first picked it. (Another painful reminder as to why Spot didn’t trust Slink. Who just _knew_ how to pick locks?) 

 

The main chamber was huge, a large room with cement flooring, lined with catwalks and the tiny, sickening white cells hanging from the ceiling. If that hadn’t been when _all hell broke loose_ , Spot would have taken time to admire the intricately carved pillars and cleanliness of the place.

 

While there weren’t many scientists, there weren’t many rebels, either. What really gave the rebels the upper hand was the fact that most of the scientists weren’t as well-armed as one would expect from a facility like this. That, plus the rebels fought like a pack of wild dogs, tearing down anyone in their way. Jack was leading about half of the group- Spot included- through the fighting, up the catwalks and towards the cages. Blink and Thompson were leading the fight, though- Blink had a small pistol in-hand, filling the air with the whistles and screams of bullets. Thompson was working with throwing knives; Spot saw him nail one unlucky scientist in the back of the head before flashing off and disappearing temporarily.

 

There was one thing Spot knew as he raced up the catwalk behind Jack and a few others. If his martyrdom meant innocent children were freed from a prison, then so be it.

 

  
-  
  
  


The day had started like any other for Antonio Higgins. Up at five, when the morning alarm went off, left to leap out of bed before it violently collapsed in on itself and disappeared into the floor. Moments after that the tests started, going until who-knows-when, though Toni had assumed it paused at around noon, when he was supposed to eat. 

 

Today had been an experiment he’d undergone multiple times before, and it was one of the ones he hated most.

 

There was a soft click, and the room began filling with water at a rapid pace. The box filled completely and almost immediately, leaving him holding his breath and fighting to stay conscious. This was to see how long he could hold his breath and not panic, pushing each and every time to see if he’d be able to hold his breath longer than the last. Toni knew of some people who could hold their breath for ages and not panic- some of the side effects of the tests resulted in water-related powers, with some people capable of sitting underwater for around an hour- but he’d never been able to go more than a couple minutes without losing it. Toni hated the water, hated the way it weighed his clothes down and made it hard to hear. And he relied on hearing and touch most of the time, because about half of the time he was completely and totally blind. 

 

That had been his _least_ favorite side effect. During the day, it was like his eyesight completely left him, abandoned him. Which was also why now, when he couldn’t touch anything but that _damned_ water, he was indeed panicking. 

 

Apparently the three minutes of him suffering underwater was enough for today, because the cell started draining just as quickly as it had filled. He was left panting and dripping wet on the ground, barely a full minute to recollect himself before the cell’s floor began heating up.

 

That was also why Toni _hated_ this test. The water-experiment was always followed by this one, where the floor heated up to the point where it burned his feet and forced him to leap and take a hold of the hand bars attached to the ceiling (which was a feat, considering he couldn’t see the hand bars). The water that hadn’t drained condensed, making the room uncomfortably hot and muggy. The floor slowly rose, forcing him to lift his feet and curl his body up to keep from getting burned. When he was allowed to drop back to the (not completely cooled down) floor, he waited for the next test.

 

When it didn’t come immediately, Toni started pacing the room. He probably looked like a caged animal, confusion evident on his features. The tests _never_ paused. So what had happened?

 

He waited for so long his vision had started to come back, though it was still blurry and blotchy and _he hated it_. He was trapped in his own thoughts, pacing, every moment causing him to grow more concerned and more fearful. Had the scientists left him? While he didn’t like the scientists in the least, they fed him, and Toni liked food too much to be accepting of that thought. 

 

The door opened with a loud clang, startling Toni to the point where he almost tripped. The opening of the cell caused the air to be filled with noise, with screams and shouts and gunshots. He snapped his gaze to the entrance of the cell, ready to fight what scientist was there- only it wasn’t a scientist. It was a boy, about Toni’s age, dressed in all black. Toni was about to fight _him_ , too, but before he could the boy stuck out his hand and said plainly yet urgently, “Come.”

 

Toni wasn’t one to object to freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here we go. again, i thrive off of hits and kudos.

Toni’s cell, unfortunately for him, had been one of the furthest ones away from the doors. He blamed that for his inability to have escaped this hellhole himself, even though he’d gotten out of the cell before only to be hauled back screaming and fighting. The location made the sprint back to the entrance more dangerous, but it also meant whoever had freed him didn’t need to go back for anyone else and leave a currently half-blind prisoner to navigate a battlefield on his own.

There was still shouting, and Toni noticed other people darting to and from the catwalks and cells. Some seemed familiar, which set him on edge, but he didn’t let it distract him. Once they arrived at the large doors leading to the tunnel system and consequently outside, the person who had broken into Toni’s cell shouted something over the clamor. That was when the people still fighting dropped what they were doing and fled like rats off of a sinking ship.

Toni, among with some of the other prisoners, were lead through the winding tunnel system. Most of the teenagers he recognized- of the small group, Tony had been friends with quite a few before the capture. Of these people, he could name Mush, Smalls, Crutchie, and Albert, who he was probably most happy to see considering that was who he’d been closest to pre-kidnapping out of all of them.

Toni’s vision had come back fully by now, leading him to assume it was dark outside as he could really only see during night. The tunnels were narrow, causing Race to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Albert as they were ushered through the space. The silence was deafening initially, until one by one people began to talk amongst themselves. There was an air of tension around them, causing them all to be extremely cautious even with each other.

Albert was the first to speak to Toni, his voice a hushed whisper. “Racetrack,” He breathed, causing his step to falter slightly. He hadn’t been called that in years, since before he’d been caught. The scientists barely spoke to anyone, and when they did, they refused to call the ‘ _experiments_ ’ anything other than their full, formal name. Race still beamed at the other, more than a little relieved. He’d hated being referred to as ‘ _Antonio Higgins_ ,’ it had made him feel like a snobby butler. He didn’t figure butlers had to go through painstaking tests and experiments, but still.

They talked among themselves in hushed whispers, trying to figure out who had helped them. They were led through the tunnels for what felt like ages, until finally- _finally_!- the group all reemerged above ground. Though they’d all fallen silent again, the person who seemed to be the leader motioned still for everyone to stay quiet. Race would have made a retort if he didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.

Again, they were lead through the dark streets- Race was right, it had been night- and to an abandoned warehouse. It looked large, though the walls were very well in disrepair and there were weeds and tall grass growing all outside and climbing up the walls. While Racetrack was less than happy at the thought of going into another building again, he was sure he’d just be caught again if they stayed outside. As such, he was one of the first people to haul themselves through the window and into the open warehouse.

The inside of the building wasn’t much to look at, though it was better inside than out. The majority of the space was open and unused, save for one corner. That corner had a raggedy couch shoved into it, a large pile of boxes and suitcases, and a threadbare mattress piles on with blankets beside the couch.

In short, it was an eyesore.

The people dressed in all black started pulling off hats and abandoning gloves on the floor, some of which were bloodstained and made Race wince and cast his gaze away. As people started pulling masks and clothes off, a couple of the ex-prisoners started to recognize them. Crutchie had essentially thrown himself at who turned out to be Jack, Mush and Blink hugged for longer than either would later admit to, and people Race assumed were Romeo and Specs drifted around hugging everyone. At some point, Albert had dragged Race over to the couch where they both splayed out, reminiscing in what the hell had just happened.

When the initial excitement had died down, the person who had gotten Race out of the cell approached him rather awkwardly, sticking his hand out to shake. “I’s Spot,” He said, shifting his weight as Race shook his hand.

“What, are ‘ya a dog?” Race quipped, smirking and loosely crossing his arms over his chest. When Spot scowled, Race shook his head and added on. “I’m Racetrack.”

“And you were making fun of my name,” Spot grumbled, turning and stalking away to join where most of the rebels were. At some point, most of the ex-prisoners had joined Race and Albert on the couch, and the warehouse was filled with a quiet chatter.

For the first time in ages, Race was okay with where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> n o t f o r l o n g
> 
> also, slink doesn’t seem that important right now, and she’s not. but. out of the hundreds of captured, she was the only one who managed to escape. her powers are v v minimal compared to everyone else but she does have shadow manipulation.


	3. Chapter 3

Like everyone who had just been freed, Race woke up at the ass-crack of dawn once it was morning. His vision was shrouded in blinding light yet again, but he could tell some people were up and some were asleep by the sounds. There was a faint murmur between presumably Albert and Mush, judging by the timbre of the voices, combined with a faint snoring coming from the floor. Race assumed it was Jack out of experience. When life was halfway normal, most of them got together for huge sleepovers. Jack had been the only one who made noise then, so Race assumed that was the same now.

 

He pushed himself upright, crossing his legs and resting his face in his hands as he tried to decipher who was doing what. Once a month, the scientists had let the kids out of their cells to eat together. Though the recess lasted only around ten minutes, it was a welcome relief that allowed Race to know who had what abilities and vice versa.

 

He could name most of them off the top of his head- Crutchie had some odd mix between healing and nature powers, Albert had fire powers, Mush had water powers Race was envious of, and Romeo had air-related powers. As for Race himself, he had light manipulation. Sure, it _sounded_ cool, but he couldn’t even see it half the time and the light hadn’t ever been useful with the experiments. He controlled light, not heat (or, at least, not _much_ heat- he could still warm himself up with his powers if only a bit), which meant he couldn’t evaporate any water. The only time he could say it had ever been _remotely_ useful was when the time the heating system had broken and his box grew cold, but that hadn’t even been a test.

 

If you asked Race, the consequences were _not_ worth it.

 

He missed his eyesight, Albert’s powers could kill him (he’d claimed any time he used his powers he heated up to uncomfortable levels, and hadn’t tried pushing it very far so who knows what could happen), Race had seen first hand the pain Crutchie’s powers had caused him- he felt whatever he healed, and the plant-related powers drained him- Mush was deaf in one ear and being away from water for too long hurt him, Romeo couldn’t even _take in a breath_ while he used his powers. Most of them tried to keep their powers hidden from the scientists, as well- nobody who worked in the lab knew of Race’s powers, as far as he knew, and the same had gone for Romeo. Crutchie had tried to keep his powers hidden, at least for a little bit, but that hadn’t lasted very long, unfortunately for Crutchie.

 

Racetrack didn’t like to think about the lab’s punishments.

 

Everyone sat there for ages, doing next to nothing except for murmur amongst each other. It was nice, not having to do anything, but it did leave Race rather fidgety. The rebels- could he still call them that? He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t think of something different- didn’t get up for at least a few hours after everyone else. When they did, though, people started moving around a lot more, and Race felt the couch dip as two people moved to sit on either side of him. At first, he stiffened, though he relaxed and even laughed when Albert leaned in from his left side and made a quip about Jack. He still didn’t know who was on his other side, but asking Albert who meant swallowing his pride and that was something Race _would not_ do.

 

A bit later, there was a thump before Jack’s voice rang out through the dingy warehouse. “Alright, you’s, most’a us ‘ave known each other since we’s little kids, yeah?” There was a ripple of agreement and a few forceful chuckles before he continued. ”Good. Then we’ll skip the introductions, there’s only, what, ten of us here anyways. Maybe twelve if Thompson an’ Slink show back up.” That statement confused Race a little. There had been a girl from his lab who everyone referred to as Slink, but she’d escaped after only two weeks. That was impossible. (Race knew, he’d tried. _Repeatedly._ ) He wanted to reflect on it, but Jack had begun talking again.

 

“At night, we’s gonna move to a more secretive place so we don’ have to risk gettin’ caught so much as we would here.” Jack clapped his hands together as Race breathed out a sigh of relief. Night meant he could see. “It’s underground, which sucks ‘cus some of yous just got outta there, but ‘s tons safer and you’ll be able to come back up an’ stuff eventually. ‘S all, boys.”

 

That had started up a clamour, but the excitement died down quickly. Once again, things were back to a lull. Everyone seemed happy for the calm, though card game later (Racetrack had obviously grown a bit irritated at that, because he _loved_ cards and it had been _years_ but he couldn’t _play_ because he couldn’t _see_. Albert, though, had picked up on his agitation and offered to help him.) it was shattered. There was a crash outside, and the sound of people moving around in alarm before Race heard the sound of someone launching themselves in through the window, presumably the same one they had entered through the night before. A silence blanketed them, before a familiar voice shattered it. “Change of plans, Jack. We gotta leave. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's that chapter! I'm going to start leaving little notes on the characters and setting here, but you can skip them if you want.
> 
> -Most AU's have Spot as the one with lots of walls built up around him. in a major turn of events, that's race in this au. he seems extroverted at first because he is, but if you push him for secrets he shuts down. spot's just kinda abrasive.  
> -Race and Albert were super close before this whole thing took place, and they only got closer during it even though they couldn't talk to each other much. They're both really touch starved though, and since they're closest to each other they're really (platonically) touchy with each other. like, they hug a lot and always sit really close together and lean into one another when they're talking. it got so bad that once smalls asked if they were dating. of course they're not, they think of each other like brothers. smalls, no.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the longest of the chapters so far, even though it isn't that long. whoops.

That was not a very reassuring thing to hear. Race was helped to his feet as another person entered through the window, sounding noticeably more clumsy. Jack was the one who spoke next, the scowl evident from his tone. “What d’ya mean? Thompson, what’s Slink gettin’ at?”

 

That confirmed Race’s suspicion. Slink  _ had  _ gotten out, though he’d assumed she’d been killed as he hadn’t heard anything of her.

 

The unfamiliar person- Thompson?- sounded out of breath, pushing Race to think they had ran here. Also not a comforting thought. “The city’s doin’ a sweep, man. They’re checking all the buildings. Now, we can’t say for sure exactly why, but I think it’s safe to assume ‘cus of the break-out.” 

 

There was a soft groan from Jack- that was Jack, Right? Race couldn’t be sure. “Okay. Thanks, Leblanc. Spot, grab the suitcase with the medical supplies. Blink, get the box with the weapons, we’re high-tailin’ it out of here.”

 

-

 

High-tail it they did, though Race would have preferred the term ‘ _brilliantly and valiantly escaped the clutches of_ _re-imprisonment_ ’. Before he could say so, though, Albert was leading him out a back door, which was much more preferable to blindly clambering through a window and trying to not cut himself on glass he couldn’t see. At some point, someone had grumbled something along the lines of “stop holding hands like children, we’ll go faster,” to which Albert had retorted with  “He’s blind, dumbass.” Race felt like he missed out on the person’s expression when there was a bit of silence before a quick apology. 

 

Nobody spoke as they navigated the busy streets, everyone thankful they all blended in with the amount of people rushing past. Eventually though, Race could guess they’d broken off from the crowd when even the sound of passersby ceased. They felt like they had been walking for ages, and Race was just about to rightfully complain so when he realised their path was sloping downwards. 

 

His footsteps grew noticeably more cautious, like if he wasn’t careful he’d walk off the edge of a bluff.  That was probably due to Race thinking that  _ no, if he wasn’t careful he’d very well plummet off the face of the earth, thank you _ . Even when the ground leveled out again, his steps were wary, but at least he was moving faster now. The tunnel smelled damp, musty, and unpleasant, and whenever he reached out with his free hand to touch the wall he felt bits of dirt flake into his hands. That was something he  _ very strongly and passionately  _ resented, but it was either that or get captured and punished. 

 

The choice seemed very obvious to Race after that- suck it up and deal with the fact that he was underground again.

 

They walked for ages through the winding tunnels. Whenever someone spoke, their voice echoed off the narrow walls, throwing Race off and making him unsure. He’d think someone would be in front of him, but then they’d say something and suddenly it sounded like they were behind him. It was concerning, to say the least. Finally, though, Albert tugged Race to a stop- and by how close Jack sounded when he cleared his throat next, had kept him from walking into the mentioned teenager.

 

Jack started directing people around, telling Blink and Spot where to set their supplies and how to get the area set up. Race wished he could see the room, resigning himself to sit on the floor and hopefully out of the way until he could see again. 

 

-

 

Spot was busy organising the box of food. He’d been down here before, frequently, actually- all of them had. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to come down into the hidden area, drop off extra clothes or blankets or food. Everyone had been doing this for months, resulting in this area being a lot more cozy than the warehouse.

 

It was a bunker, technically, but from the inside it felt more like a regular apartment than something that could be used to survive a bomb. The lighting was warm, and there were three main rooms- a large living room, which was where everyone had entered into, openly connected to a pantry and a mass bedroom. (The bedroom was more of a nest- multiple mattresses completely obscured the floor, with sheets and pillows and blankets thrown haphazardly on top. Jack said it maximized space, so as many people could fit as possible, but Spot didn’t like sharing a sleeping space so close to everyone else.) Hidden off to the side was a bathroom and an electrical room as well, which generated enough power on its own to grant the place a functioning fridge and lights.

 

When he’d stacked the last box of food, Spot stalked back out of the pantry and into the living room. Most everyone had gone off to finish organizing things- including Jack, Blink, and Thompson, meaning Slink was the only one Spot knew the name of and hewouldn't willingly talk to her if it killed him- leaving Spot with nobody to talk to. That is, unless he wanted to admit to these people he hadn’t cared enough to remember their names (he didn’t) or actually approach someone new (he didn’t either, but the latter was better than the former or standing alone). Spot settled on talking to Racetrack, who was currently sitting on the floor, alone, with his head in his hands as he stared off into space. 

 

Awkwardly crouching down on the floor next to him, Spot pretended not to notice as Racetrack jumped slightly. “Whatchya doin’ ‘round on the floor, ev’ryone else is on the couch and this place hasn’t been swept in ages, dumbass.” Spot huffed slightly, crossing his arms.

 

“I can’t see the couch,” Came the other’s retort as he made a great show of wiping the dust on his hands onto his pants.  That confused Spot. The kid had been able to see just fine when they’d spoken last, right? “It’s right there,” Spot said rather dumbly, pointing.

 

Raising his eyebrows, Racetrack looked less than amused. ”I’m going to assume you pointed, which is not helpful.”

 

Spot spluttered slightly before shaking himself out. “What, you’re blind? I thought you could see just fine yesterday, though.”

 

Stretching his arms out in front of him, Race shrugged. “It’s weird. I can’t see during the day at all, but I can see at night just fine. No, scratch that, I can see better at night than ev’ryone else can. Durin’ the day, ‘s just all white. Everything.”

 

Spot made a small ‘ _hmph_ ’ sound, glancing to the side awkwardly before realizing Race couldn’t see his reaction, and therefore he really didn’t have to look away. “Oh. That’s weird, don’t most blind people just see black?” 

 

At Race’s ‘are you seriously asking  _ me  _ that’ expression, Spot forced another laugh. “Dumb question, okay. So, do ‘ya got anybody you knew before, the whole… y’know? We could help find them.” Spot shook his head a little, adjusting himself. As soon as Spot had stopped talking, though, Blink had cut in with an announcement. Which was probably a good thing, Spot thought, seeing as Race didn’t look like he’d answer that any time soon. 

 

“We’re going on lockdown,” Blink had called from where he paced the room, making a face. “Thompson and Slink are already gone, because Thompson’s family would report him if he was gone and Slink does whatever the hell she wants, we can’t stop her. Nobody else goes in or comes out until we get word that the city’s guard is down. Jack’s probably making some trash food, go bug him if you got any questions.” And with that, Blink disappeared into the kitchen to do who-knows-what. That left Spot two options, try to resurrect the dead conversation with Race or to wander off and do his own thing.

 

And if he was a bit guilty he chose the latter, then so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fourth update in the same day??? who am i??? i'm on spring break, so when i'm not drawing, i'm writing. onto some extra character notes (again, feel free to skip them, they aren't that important to the story)-  
> -someone help thompson. his father's an architect and city planner (useful for the rebel's operation; his father knows what thompson's up to and helps around a bit, which is where the bunker came from), and his mother's a doctor (also part of the reason the Leblanc family is so well-off). he's actually an old oc i've had for a while now- he tries his best to keep the experimented-on kids safe but also keep them away from his family, because if he gets caught helping them, he's gonna be in deep shit.  
> -thompson is also the rebel's main source of materials- he smuggles money to buy most of their food, weapons, supplies, etc.  
> -slink is a little bitch  
> -I want to get a brotherly Race/Albert/Romeo dynamic goin' on you feel me  
> -spot's really ooc for the moment, which will be fixed once i get more time to write the characters, I promise  
> -i still don't really know where i'm going with this, i very rarely plan things out before i write it


	5. Chapter 5

For a few days, everything was quiet. Nobody went in or out (except for once, when Slink just sort of _showed up_ only to disappear a bit later, which had freaked out Jack because the door was  _ locked and how did she get in _ ), and the half of the group that had powers didn’t talk much except for amongst themselves. Everyone was still a little jumpy, but as hours turned into a day turned into a few days, things started to calm down a little.

 

Race had (thankfully) learned his way around the bunker, pacing for hours at a time every time night came until the distances were engraved in his mind. He learned not to go into the bedroom during the day (Blink had a nasty habit of napping  _ right in front of the door _ and shouting whenever someone tripped over him), he learned to trust Jack’s cooking but not Mush or Blink's, and he learned that Spot could fix _anything_. Things were starting to fall in place, with people’s habits changing slightly to mold to each other (except for Jack, who still slept in  _ every day despite everyone else getting up at a decent human hour _ ). 

 

Not bumping into other people was hell, but Race managed. People learned to either be loud (well,  _ louder _ ) around him, or to avoid him when he wasn’t sitting still. So far, Elmer had been the only one who hadn’t been bumped into or hit accidentally, which was a feat considering they actually  _ spent time together _ . 

 

It had been a few days since the move to the bunker -three, to be exact- but Race hadn’t really spoken to any of the people he didn’t know beforehand. That meant he hadn’t spoken to Thompson, Slink, or Spot, which irritated him a little. How had he been living with them for days and not spoken to them more than, what, twice at most?

 

Apparently Spot could read his thoughts, because Race felt the couch dip with added weight as someone sat next to him. When the person spoke next, Race could tell it was Spot, and he didn’t know whether to feel good or bad about that. “I don’t know how all these people are functioning with each other like they is,” He had started, to which Race scoffed.

 

“Me neither. I thought Blink an’ Jack- maybe you too- would have been locked in a power scuffle by now.” Race rolled his eyes. Spot scowled at that, which Race was practically able to hear when he spoke next. “I’s too tough, they’d back off when I looked at ‘em funny.”

 

Race painted on a cheeky expression and rested his elbows on his knees. “If that’s the case, then why ain’t you the leader? Blink an’ Jack is controllin’ everything, from what I can tell.” 

 

Spot hesitated for a few beats, leaving Race to snigger at what he assumed his expression was. “People listen to me. There’s jus’ more of ‘ya from Manhattan, so more of you’s already knew each other.” 

 

Race spread out his hands, swinging his feet. “But that don’ mean nothin’. If there was a power scuffle, who’s to say the current leaders wouldn’t win?” 

 

The couch creaked as Spot shifted his weight. “You got me, Racer. But I still think I’d win a fight.”

 

-

 

Later that evening, when Race’s vision started to clear up, Thompson made a reappearance. Jack was again irritated at how he was able to get in. (Jack’s reaction had been downright comical when he found out Slink had let Thompson in, because supposedly she hadn’t been there but for a few minutes total before and after.) It turned out to be a good thing though, because Thompson had a box of fresh food and some news.

 

Now, Race was the one elected to go organize the food and put it away. Initially that had irritated him, but the pantry was the room next to the bedroom, and the bedroom was where Jack and Thompson were talking. And if he caught the occasional word or two, that wasn’t  _ really _ anybody’s fault.

 

Race had just finished putting away the last bit of food when Thompson and Jack both burst out of the room, startling Racer and making him jump. (Like, really jump. He had bounced a couple _feet_ in the air and hit Jack with the sleeve of his hoodie.) After the burst of laughter died down, Jack grabbed Racetrack by his sleeve and tugged him into the living room, where everyone had been lounging prior. Most people were splayed over the couch like a pride of lions, Specs and Elmer were reading, Crutchie was messing with the houseplant, and Spot was fidgeting with what looked like just some metal.

 

Nobody paid them any mind at first, until Thompson threw himself on the couch with a dull thump and Jack cleared his throat. 

 

“Shiloh here-“ Thompson audibly groaned- “has told me that the city ain’t supposedly doin’ sweeps no more. They have flyers up, sayin’ to turn in any ‘suspicious persons’ for a reward, but nothin’ specific is said. If Thompson or Slink could actually  _ bring _ a flyer next time, that’d be nice, thanks Leblanc- but I think it’s safer to go out now. How many of youse have actually practiced your powers?”

 

When Crutchie was the only one to stick up his hand, Jack grinned crookedly. “Looks like you's gotta practice, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read any percy jackson books, you'll know nico, yeah? slink can shadow travel like he can, but it's a lot more limited.
> 
> i came up with too many character notes so below is a masterlist for things i thought of this chapter and keep going back and adding to. there's light spoilers so read at your own risk, but i promise nothing too important. it's just what character is going to make an appearance next  
> https://whiteway-newsies.tumblr.com/post/172123483681/pawskidge-headcanons-this-is-for-from-the


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter told completely in spots pov and i picked it up at five am and finished at seven am. i didnt sleep last night. also, i dont delve too deep in their thoughts when i write to keep more things a mystery,,, as always, i thrive off of comments and kudos enjoy

Spot was tired. He was tired and he didn’t want to be doing this.

He was at the very back of a small group, padding back through the tunnels and up above ground. The people with powers were going to find a place to practice, while Blink and Spot were the only rebels going- to make sure nobody killed themselves as well as scavenge for supplies.

Lots of places were abandoned, now. Anyone who had committed a noteworthy crime- which lots of people had done, because most had to when the state of the country was as bad as it had been- had fled the country, excluding those who didn’t have children or family. One would think that the criminals wouldn’t have any of that, but the population drop had clearly disproved the thought. Of course, some people probably left out of fear of being experimented on themselves, but Spot preferred to not think of that.

After a noteworthy amount of time spent walking, Blink had lead them above ground. It was dark outside, which was to be expected considering the late hour. Everyone was still near silent as they passed the desolate streets, mostly out of fear they’d get caught. Thankfully, they didn’t have to walk long before everyone stopped.

Pulling his gaze from his shoes, Spot blinked and tried to make out where they were through the blanket of shadow. With a start, he recognized an old grocery store he’d popped into once or twice when he was younger.

Blink had little trouble kicking in one of the old windows (that was a lie, the kid had no depth perception. Spot had to smother a snort when he kicked empty air the first try). He clambered in through the window quickly, leaving everyone else to follow.

Spot ended up helping Crutchie in through the window, which was a bit of pain because of small bits of glass that got embedded in his hands. Blink was leaning against the inside wall, watching as one by one everyone filtered in. Once everyone was inside and on their feet, he brushed his hands off on his pants and stepped forward to speak.

“Me an’ Spot is gonna dig around for anything useful. You guys… just practice your powers on each other, don’ kill nobody.”

Spot thought that seemed like a lot to ask of them, but he didn’t say so. Instead, Spot nodded and hopped after Blink as he turned and slipped into the aisles.

He could hear the others talking as he snatched a bag off the floor and started dumping anything useful-looking into it. Because of the fact that they were already on the opposite side of the store, though, the specific words were lost to Spot.

Despite the shouts and occasional flash of light from the other side of the place, it was calm. Blink and Spot gathered stuff in relative silence, with Blink complaining now and again about how rapidly the temperature was fluctuating. Spot would just grunt and nod, not too bothered himself. Any time the temperature dropped, the building just grew hot again after, so he didn’t find any reason to complain.

He pushed past Blink, who was currently climbing the shelves like some sort of half-blind monkey to reach the few things normally out of reach. Spot almost jumped when Blink called something to him.

“Go grab some paint, I saw some a couple ailes over.”

Spot screwed up his face, slowly setting a couple boards and sheets of scrap metal into the bag. “Why do we need paint?”

“Don’t argue with me Spotty, just get the damn paint.”

“If you call me that again, I’m going to throw you over the bridge so fast you ain’t gonna know what hitchya.”

“While I don’t doubt that you actually would do that, we really do need some paint. Get as much as you can carry, please, and quit yer gripin’.”

Spot grumbled and left Blink to cling onto the shelf alone, walking out of the aisle and making his way to where the paint supposedly was. Considering he was getting closer to where the people were practicing, he could hear a few people now, but it was still hard to tell who was who.

“ _Stop it, you lit my damn hair on fire!_ ”

_“I cant see out of my right eye, so we’re even now!”_

_“Can we stop for a bit? I need a drink- hey!”_

_“You always need a drink, dammit!”_

_”My hands hurt, stop it!”_

 

_”All our hands hurt, we climed through a broken window!”_

 

_”Who hurts?”_

 

_”I know what you’re thinking, don’t.”_

There was a thump, a pause, and then a shriek. _“My succulent!”_

Spot had to deal with seemingly random phrases being thrown back and forth while he stuffed tubes of acrylic paint into his bag. He couldn’t decide if it was amusing or irritating.

He hiked up the now-full bag, rustling around for another. When he couldn’t find one, Spot approached the boarded-up door for one of the plastic hand baskets that was spilled over the floor.

From the door, he could more or less see everyone in the store. The top of Blink’s head was visible, as were one of his hands; Mush was laughing at a drenched Albert, who had his hand pressed to one eye as Race scowled at him. Crutchie was on the floor, cradling a broken-looking plant and complaining while Elmer helped him to his feet.

Spot shook his head and glanced away, slipping back into the back of the store to grab anything else useful.

-

The trek back home had consisted of everyone complaining loudly, and then people complaining about the complaining. The same back-and-forth had been going on for an hour.

Spot was holding Race by the shoulders as the group stalked through the tunnels. The boys vision had started fading again by the time they left, and after quite a few trips and falls Spot eventually just grabbed him and guided him. There was significantly less complaining than was expected.

Elmer banged on the heavy bunker door when they reached it, and when it didn’t immediately open began flinging rocks at it (Of course not with his hands, that would be silly. He had felt the need to show off wind powers by stirring up the grit and letting it pelt the door.)

The door opened to a disgruntled looking Specs, who unfortunately got hit with a small rock before Elmer realized that oh, the door’s open now. Once everyone paraded inside, the door shut with a heavy, metallic clang and everyone started settling down again. Race, Crutchie, and Elmer, and Mush all dropped onto the large couch, falling asleep surprisingly quickly.

Spot was left with his own thoughts as he went to organize and put away the paints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more character notes:  
> -i was supposed to introduce a new character but i liked the way it flowed, plus this chapter would be longer than i wanted if i rewrote the part when they were supposed to come in  
> -in second grade race broke his arm because his mom told him "if your friends jumped off a bridge would you" and race said yes, he would. his mom didn't believe him  
> -"watch me"  
> -a couple hours and a hospital visit later race was indeed proven right  
> -while we’re on the topic of race’s mom  
> -Race was an only child with a single mom (though he did have a shit ton of cousins). Because of just how bad everything was before the 'crime control' (and during and after, but that was happening behind the scenes) she had to steal and fight, like many others, to afford their apartment. She wasn't morally corrupt, but she had to do bad things to keep her and Race safe. Unfortunately, what she did was still bad enough for Race to be hauled off for testing. (And yes, she is still alive.)  
> -when it gets cold everyone dogpiles on race and albert because w a r m  
> -Spot managed to make a makeshift nerf gun when he got back out of the metals and plastics and somehow crutchie got his paws on it  
> -its crutchies now  
> -he hides and shoots people when they come back from trips out of the bunker


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my instagram is whiteway.newsies, my tumblr is whiteway-newsies. hmu, send me headcanons (that might possibly become canon), requests, suggestions, anything. as always i live for kudos and comments enjoy

The day seemed to drag by so slowly. Race mostly just paced the living room, but he could hear people mulling around and doing their own things. He wanted to be doing something more, like play cards or read or even doodle mindlessly, but he couldn’t see and you sort of have to be able to see to read or draw or play cards.

Eventually, he got fed up with it and decided to humor himself by doing something, anything. Race paused for a moment, listening to try to figure out who was close and what they were doing.

Elmer and Albert were talking, from the sound of it close to the bookcase; The noise of the stove and pots clanging confirmed at least two people were in the kitchen; footsteps were lightly crossing the concrete floor, before a heavy creak sounded that signified the door opening. Deciding that was the most interesting thing, Race honed in on that and pretended to be doing something else.

Jack’s voice was the one to answer whoever was behind the door, Race realised, and Thompson was the one who responded. Hmph. He couldn’t make out what they were saying over the clamour of the others, but he could make out their urgent tone. Intrigued, he trailed a short way behind them when he heard them moving through the bunker.

Rce stopped outside the bedroom door, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor after they both entered the bedroom and shut the door. Thankfully, Race could still hear them from the other side of the wall.

  
“You wanted me to get new recruits ‘ta help us, right?”

  
“Yes, this is the third time you’ve asked me to clarify.”

“I think I’m aware of that. Anyways, I got a couple people in mind, and one that I’ve actually already talked to. I’m supposed to meet him in two hours, if you’re ready for him to come here.”

“Already? Thompson, it’s only been a few days.”

“You can trust ‘im, I know him. His brother used to take classes with one of my brothers and they hung out. We hung out by default.”

“If you’re sure, fine. If not, I’m going to flay you like a fish and throw you over the bridge.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t do that. Anyways, we should take a patrol of people to come up with me. They can practice powers or search for supplies and whatnot while I talk to the guy.”

“Sure, go ask and see who wants to come. Only take, like, two people.”

Race didn’t catch whatever Thompson said next, as he’d pushed himself to his feet and disappeared back into the main room. He’d heard enough, and he wanted to be in the group that first went to meet the new guy.

-

Sure enough, Race was the first one to volunteer. And, initially, the only one- most people were satisfied messing around indoors instead of risking their freedom outside. Race, though, wasn’t most people.

What had startled Race was Thompson not saying anything about meeting a new person. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to great lengths to hide it, though, because if so he and Jack would have made a bigger effort to disguise their talk. He eventually shrugged it off.

Crutchie ended up volunteering to go when nobody else did, and he, Race, and Thompson left the bunker to begin the walk through the tunnels. His vision was starting to come back, but likely only because of the darkness of the tunnel- Race bet that once they were above ground, in the light, his vision would go white once more.

He was proven correct.

He had to awkwardly trail behind the single-footstep-and-metallic-thump sound from Crutchie as Thompson blew an excuse and slipped behind a building.

“We’re back at that grocery store,” Crutchie pointed out, to which Race hummed in acknowledgment. After a not-so-brief struggle through the window, they both found themselves inside the store again.

After messing around for awhile (‘messing around’ consisting of Race acting like a human strobe light and Crutchie getting vines to crawl up his good leg so he could ‘ _be one with nature, Racer_ ’), they were both sittin on the ground and chuckling to each other. Eventually though, even that sizzled out, and Race leaned his head back. “D’ya know why we’re really out here?”

“To practice,” Crutchie said, like it was obvious. “We’re not the first group to come up to screw around outside the bunker.”

Race rolled his eyes. “Nah, I heard Thompson talkin’ to Jack about bringin’ a new person.”

Crutchie’s face flashed with something hard to pin down, even though Race couldn’t see it. It was gone as quickly as it came. “Yeah? Why’s we gettin’ a new person?”

“I dunno,” He admitted, sitting up and shrugging. He made a face at the way the grit felt under his hands. “I just assumed it was for help getting supplies, and I think Jack wants to break out more kids from the labs.” The word ‘labs’ was spat out like it burned his tongue.

“Yeah,” Crutchie confirmed. “I mean, he does want to break out more kids. He told me.”

“He likes you,” Race said suggestively, sticking his tongue out around a grin and wiggling his eyebrows. He felt Crutchie whack him. “Nah, we’s just friends.”

“Sure yous are. C’mon, let’s go hunt down Thompson. It’s like six, my vision’ll come back soon.”

-

Naturally, Race was right. By the time he had gotten back to his feet and found Crutchie to help him up, his vision was coming back (be it excruciatingly slow). That definitely made it easier to get out the window with his friend in tow. “C’mon, let's check around the building first. That’s where I heard Thompson go.”

Race started to bounce off, before Crutchie grabbed him by the hood and hauled him back. “Nope,” He said, popping the ‘p’. “He went behind that building-“ Race glanced to where Crutchie was pointing, a deteriorating shed just past the corner Race had gone towards. “I saw him go back there. Nice try, Racer.” Crutchie patted him on the back, to which Race forced a snicker, and he decided to hang slightly behind Crutchie this time.

When they rounded the corner, Thompson was indeed leaning against the side of the shed and talking to someone- a tall boy, about their age, from the looks, with light hair (although everything appeared light, Race’s vision was still very well Fucked Over™) and surprisingly nice clothes. Thompson looked like he could care less about Race and Crutchie, while New Kid looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Who’s that?” He spluttered, prompting a friendly, energetic wave from Crutchie and a snicker from Race.

Thompson answered for them, deadpanning. “That’s Crutchwrap and Obnoxious. Don’t be fooled by the nice looking one, he steals hoodies. Don’t be fooled by the other one either, he makes you bet on board games before terribly beating everyone at it.”

“Ha, ha. Please tell me their actual names,” New Kid huffed, crossing his arms. Race grinned at that. It had gotten darker, so he could see significantly better now, leading to the realization that New Kid’s hair was actually dark.

“Racetrack and Crutchie,” Thompson said, shrugging sheepishly.

“You have got to be joking.”

“Nah, dude, ‘ats us.” Race smirked as Crutchie stuck out his hand to shake.

“My name’s David,” New Kid said, shaking Crutchie’s hand and only looking a little alarmed at the sprouts snugly wrapped around Crutchie’s fingers, like they belonged there. “Nice ta meetchya, Davey,” Crutchie chirped.

Then he shook Race’s hand, shooting an alarmed look at Thompson when Race illuminated himself to mess with Davey.

“Chill. I assume Race isn’t fucking blind anymore, so I gotta get back home before my mom calls the cops. Au revoir, bitches.” Thompson waved slightly, turning on his heels and stalking off.

That left Crutchie and Racetrack, lf all people, to introduce him to the helldemons that were their friends.

“Damnit, Race, I won’t get to shoot Davey the first time he comes into the bunker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dAVEY MAKES AN ENTRANCE  
> later i want a chapter from davey’s pov. and a chapter from crutchie, jack, and albert’s. all in good time  
> -  
> character notes  
> -any time race sees someone having a lightbulb moment he makes it an actual lightbulb moment  
> -#letcrutchiecuss2k18  
> -sweater vests are jacks guilty pleasure and he gets so much shit for it  
> -crutchie is a serial hoodie thief. nobody is safe  
> -elmer is too protect your hoodies  
> -crutchie is also emotionally tougher than spot conlon pass it on


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have this interlude chapter. sorry its so short, motivation was kind of lost and i focused on art for the last day of spring break. also i’m gonna work on a series of one-shots for this au for in between some chapters. if any of you have requests, prompt ideas, headcanon requests, ship pairings you want a one shot for hmu on tumblr, @whiteway-newsies. i’m also im-crying-colors but y’know that account is more for art

  
The trip back to the bunker went quicker than the last walk from it, likely due to the face that Racetrack wasn’t tripping on every single uneven surface that crossed his path.

Davey was much more aware of their surroundings than either Race or Crutchie, and was making sure to quiet them down whenever they started talking above a whisper. Race guessed this was fair, as if they got caught by the wrong people they could all end up as human lab rats.

Crutchie seemed to notice the falter in Race’s footsteps before they ducked into the tunnels again, but thankfully didn’t comment on it. Race managed to calm himself back down again fairly quickly anyways, he told himself it was fine.

When they paused in front of the heavy bunker doors, Crutchie (rather awkwardly) beat the metal with the end of his crutch before limping back and out of the way. Sure enough, moments later the door swung open.

Jack was the one who had opened it, but when he acknowledged Davey and everyone else realized woah, someone new, the other kids piled into the living room. Race squeezed past everyone else, not interested in listening to people talk when during the day, all he did was listen.

Apparently, Spot wasn’t interested in the New Guy either. After retreating into the kitchen, Race saw him shove into the room and pull out a chair from under the table to sit.

The kitchen was quiet for a bit, the only noise leaking in from the main room combined with the clatter of pots as Race dug around the cabinets. He was hungry, dammit, and had every intention to make something, anything.

Spot watched as Race managed to find a box of instant brownie mix. As if on cue, though, Crutchie essentially burst into the kitchen. The shorter boy swiped the box from Race, making a face and herding him back to the table by Spot. “Baking is my thing. I’ll make these, keep your paws to yourself or let your shins face my wrath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character notes  
> -jack has a soft pink hoodie he loves but both crutchie and davey steal it cONSTANTLY  
> -correction: davey's not usually the one to steal it but crutchie does and then gives it to him  
> -race is cousins with a character Yet To Be Introduced(tm)  
> -elmer is fluent in wingdings  
> -like the font  
> -crutchie's upper body is rIPPED  
> -i feel bad for anybody living in the bunker who isn't tactile  
> -jack is surprisingly modest, but only to things that are super important to him. like he'll flip tables over the most trivial bullshit but, say someone almost got caught and dragged back to the labs?? its fine, they're safe now. we'll get thompson to redirect their attention from us. it confuses davey endlessly   
> -jack has the syntax of a southerner but he still has that new yoik accent. he says y'all and ain't and such let him liv e   
> -race and crutchie are those friends that casually tell everyone "i love you" and mean it, and no matter which of their bunkermates gets told that they always get some form of "i love you" back  
> -crutchie wants a hamster, race wants a ferret, jack says no to both of those because "if slink's cat is anything like she is any small creature is just gonna disappear and that's too much heartbreak for y'all"  
> -its hard to get crutchie mad but if u do watch your shins  
> -i have some more ocs i want to introduce after the other important characters make an entrance  
> -romeo’s like thompson, he doesn’t stay in the bunker so much. not for the same reason as thompson, though- it’s more that the poor boy is scarred and the thought of being underground again terrifies him  
> -pretty much all the power kids are at least a little claustrophobic but the bunker is pretty open so it’s not so bad
> 
> anyways, i'm too in love with characters that don't exist,,, please excuse how thompson and slink seem to play a bigger part than some of the canon characters lmao that will be fixed in time
> 
> the bunker doors open outward. everyone with enough sense remembers to move back and out of the way but one time elmer forgot and almost got whacked with the door. he stopped the door before it hit him but in doing that swung the door back in and hit jack
> 
> recap of the characters and their powers (if any), and also because there are some mistakes in previous chapters i have yet to fix.  
> Jack  
> Kid Blink  
> Davey  
> Thompson (has powers, but not as a result of lab testing. yet to be explained.)  
> Specs  
> Spot  
> Elmer- Earth  
> Romeo- air  
> Slink- Shadow  
> Mush- Water  
> Smalls- Hypnosis (not mentioned yet whoops)  
> Albert- Fire  
> Race- Light  
> Crutchie- Plant/healing
> 
> next recap will be the next time more than one character is introduced at once,,


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger??? more or less. am i sorry?? ,,,eh
> 
> also! happy easter/april fools! this chapter started and ended with someone using the word fuck, nice!

__“I’m sorry, but what the fuck?” was certainly not the first thing Race expected to hear today. Sure, it was around one in the morning, so anything along those lines was supposedly valid, but Race had thought he and Crutchie were the only ones up and Crutchie sure wasn’t the one who had spoke. Race looked up from where he was sprawled out on the couch and, sure enough, was greeted by Spot standing in the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room. A few soft clicks sounded from behind Spot before Crutchie appeared, looking noticeably more put-together.

Spot let himself into the living room, drooping onto the floor at Race’s feet. “What the hell are you an’ Crutchie doin’ up?”

Race snorted softly. “I dunno why you’s surprised, we’re always up at this time. Give or take a few hours and Al, Smalls, Elmer, an’ Romeo will be up too.”

“Damn,” Spot huffed, watching Crutchie as the other boy winked and slipped back into the kitchen. “Well, I ain’t goin’ back to sleep, so d’ya want to put our time ta good use an’ go outside?”

“Might as well,” Race chuffed as he pushed himself to his feet. “We need more food anyways, there ain’t anything good to cook with an’ Crutch has been complaining about not havin’ enough stuff to bake with.”

They were both grabbing jackets and things they needed to go out by the time Crutchie called out to them from the kitchen. “I’ll tell Jack so he won’t lose his shit when y’all are both gone!”

Spot seemed to find this satisfactory, because Race found himself being hauled out the bunker before he could even get his hoodie completely on. He swatted Spot’s hand away so he could pull the hood over his head, already knowing the tunnels well enough to navigate them while he was still adjusting the hoodie.

The tunnels were shrouded in darkness, but the good thing about Race’s sight was that when he could actually see, he could see damn well- especially in the dark. He had to pull Spot back once or twice while they were talking to make sure he’d round the right corner and not walk into a wall.

They were above ground soon enough, walking along the desolate streets and glancing around for any empty-looking building that could be broken into. Race had to reach out and stop Spot, though, because they were nearing a fence. Race used to live around here and had recently revisited the place, so he knew what was past the tall, chain-link fence- it was a small plaza encircling a quiet park. At first glance it appeared empty, so Race smoothly began scaling it.

“What the hell are you doing, Higgins?” Spot hissed, crossing his arms. Race paused, hanging off the fence like some sort of raccoon so he could glance down and wave at Spot with one hand. “Shut yer gripin’. This place is the closest source of supplies, so shoulder the bag and get climbin’.”

Spot fell silent and thankfully began to scale the fence, being noticeably more careful than Race. Race was sitting on the top of the fence, waiting for Spot to catch up, when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Any sensible person would have ran, because strange people could be a threat to Race’s freedom. Unfortunately, Race was not a sensible person.

He abandoned Spot on the fence to jump down- he should have climbed down, if the pain that spiked up his ankles was any indication, but Race just shook himself off and darted after the sound. He could deal with Spot’s irritability later.

Race slowed down as he neared an alley, which he’d thought the figure had gone down. There was a distant thump and a string of curses- presumably, hopefully just Spot getting to the ground- but everything was otherwise silent. Race dared a glance down the alley, and sure enough, someone was down there.

He couldn’t quite see- his vision was good, yes, and Race had some surreal form of night vision he couldn’t quite explain- but he just couldn’t. It both irritated and unnerved Race. There was a silhouette though, not any taller than probably Crutchie and with baggy clothing.

There was a rustle before Spot joined Race’s side, hissing out a very quiet “What the hell, Racer.” When the figure turned, Race went frigid. There was no way that person had heard Spot- he’d spoken so quietly that even Race had trouble hearing him, and Race’s hearing wasn’t at all bad.

Race fumbled through the pocket of his hood for the switchblade he kept for cases like these, and he could see Spot do the same. He quietly clicked out the blade when another form joined the first at the far side of the alley.

This new person, Race could see, if barely. They had a feminine figure, long auburn hair that was pinned back in a bun and a crimson sweater; Race would have made some snide comment about ‘horrible color choice’ if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Spot nodded at Race before stepping out into the alley. He seemed to bristle like a cat, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. He remained in a staring contest with the new people for the longest time before Race joined him. That seemed to spark something in the other two, and they turned and flashed out of the alley and around the corner.

“What the fuck,” Spot grumbled, grabbing the hand of Race’s that wasn’t holding a knife and tugging him down the alley to follow.

-

Spot and Race ended up cornering them in the middle of the park. That sounded a lot cooler than it really was; in reality, it meant Spot was huffing to catch his breath while still managing to look threatening, and Race was holding the first figure at knifepoint while the strangers were backed up against a large fountain.

It was strange; the first figure was still hard to see- it was almost like they were an illusion, flickering and fading. The only solace that Race wasn’t hallucinating was the definite weight Race felt when he pressed the blade against what he could see of the person. His attention wasn’t focused on the girl, for good reason; he was trying to puzzle out the first person; they’d flicker, appearing and disappearing like a faulty projection. The girl, though, spoke next, startling Race and almost causing him to drop his knife.

“Toni? What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one other oc!!! last one i swear!!! i dont have any character notes bc the ones i made won’t make much sense yet but. watch out because a whole lot more characters are gonna be introduced soon,,,


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in two days!! woot  
> -  
> remember that one time in the character notes when i said a future character was related to someone we’d already met? yeah  
> -  
> there’s also a vague gravity falls and a vague tuck everlasting reference i applaud whoever can find them

  
The person Race had essentially been holding hostage solidified when the girl spoke- revealing a short boy with messy reddish-brown hair and gloved hands. New Kid tried to push Race off of himself, which he succeeded in mostly due to Race having lost all interest in him. “Katherine!”

“What the hell,” Spot uttered, jabbing his knife at Race, Katherine, and New Kid. “How do you two know each other, and why did Three-Fingers look like he’s one of those watch projections from a spy movie up ‘till now?”

“We’re cousins,” Race said, pocketing his blade so he could hug Katherine. What Spot said prompted Race to glance over at New Kid- sure enough, he was missing a finger.

Katherine ruffled Race’s hair and pointedly glared at Spot. “Toni, you know better than to bring home boys without telling me.”

That prompted an awkward cough/snort from Spot while Race whacked Katherine.

“It’s not like that,” Race huffed, at the same time Spot said, “Your real name’s Toni, huh. I thought your parents just hated you or something.”

“I’m still here,” Three-Fingers groaned, crossing his arms. Katherine jabbed at him with a foot playfully. “Shut up Salem, we’re having a family moment. Go find Jojo and the others before they burn something down.”

“Jojo’s here?” Race asked, brightening up (unfortunately, in a literal sense as well) slightly as Salem slipped off. Jojo had been one of the people in Race’s friend group some years ago. They weren’t the closest, but anyone familiar was welcome.

“So’s Buttons. And Finch, and Twitch, and Sarah.” Katherine smiled airily, while Race rolled his eyes and snapped in Katherine’s face. “Earth to Kath, I don’t know who Twitch is. Or Salem- that was his name, yeah?”

“Mhmm. Salem says he’s the leader, but that’s a lie. I’m the one who keeps us from falling apart like wet bread. Twitch is… a character. You’ll get it when you see him.”

“That’s ominous,” Spot grumbled, reminding Race that he and Katherine weren’t, in fact, alone.

There was a thick pause before Spot spoke again. “You said you’re a leader. Of what?”

Katherine hesitated, her voice low and wary; she spoke like she was treading on thin ice. “We’re breaking the kids out of the labs. We’ve not done much yet, and so far Salem, Buttons, Twitch, Jojo, and Finch are all we’ve gotten out.”

Spot seemed to grow in alertness while Race grabbed Katherine by the shoulders and loosely shook her. “We’ve done that too. Are you staying anywhere, or are you guys on the run constantly?”

Katherine pinched the bridge of her nose in an act of stress. “We’ve been flitting place to place. It’s been rough, they almost grabbed Finch and Twitch the other day.”

“I have a suggestion,” Race and Spot said in unison.

-

Race found himself wondering how he was scrambling up the fence for the second time that night. It had to be around two or three in the morning, and so far all they had to show for their expedition- other than the obviously valuable addition of more friends- were some scrapes and whatever supplies Katherine’s group had on them.

Salem had completely disappeared, to which only Spot was concerned about. Race was too wrapped up in talking to Katherine, who wasn’t concerned about the whereabouts of someone she’d lived with for weeks.

Katherine ended up leading them out of a plaza and through the abandoned streets of New York, gradually growing closer to the heart of the city. This put Race on edge, though Katherine was quick to shush him anytime he mentioned it.

Sure enough, before long the trio was hovering outside an old, abandoned shop not unlike the one they’d used to get supplies in and practice powers. This one, though, actually had a functioning door.

Katherine pushed into the little shop, mutely leaning against a wall as the door’s bell announced their presence to the empty air.

Race had to hold back a laugh as someone unfamiliar- only looking to be around fourteen-burst out of the back room, diving behind the counter. Moments later, there was a light crash, and a small dart rocketed out of the open door. It hit a concrete post and fell to the ground silently, to which the kid responded by sticking his head up from behind the safety of the desk and blowing a raspberry to whoever else was still in the back room.

 _Well_ , Race thought to himself, _this can only go well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character notes. wooo (most of these notes are about characters we’ve met in this chapter but haven’t been named. if you want to fully avoid spoilers then i suggest waiting until the next chapter is out to read these notes but u do u)
> 
> -Kath didn't break the kids out alone but if you'd rather believe that then go hog fucking wild she probably could  
> -Kath and race are cousins and you can rip this headcanon from my cold, dead hands  
> -albert elmer jack smalls and crutchie are the only ones that aren’t race’s family and know his full name  
> -jojo has Prosopagnosia (that one condition where u cant recognize faces) so everyone in their group has a hoodie of their own color, jojo memorized who has what color and thats how he recognizes them.  
> salem is black, kath is red, sarah is purple, twitch is olive green, finch is cobalt blue, buttons is lavender  
> -in regards to the just mentioned characters, kath works with her own band of rebels like jack but they don't start breaking out kids till after jack does. this group includes salem, sarah, buttons, twitch, finch, and jojo  
> -obligatory au where finch has got a blowgun and darts instead of a slingshot. he can use a slingshot but he lost his after the whole kidnapping thing and the blowdarts were the closest thing he could find. at first he could n o t use them but now he's got terrifyingly good aim and is damn amazing with it  
> -i’ll go over the powers once the characters are formally introduced see ya next chapter


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter, but its the third chapter in three days so im cutting myself some slack. if you thought any previous cliffhangers were bad then think again buddy

Spot had pressed himself fast against the wall next to Katherine when they’d first come in, trying not to show himself bristling slightly. He was more than a little proud of himself for not flinching when the door swung open and a younger kid barreled out.

He glanced briefly to Race before looking back to the door, jumping slightly when a dart shot out of it and clattered to the ground. Katherine didn’t seem concerned, though, so Spot reassured himself that this place was safe for the moment.

He was more or less expecting at least one other person to exit from the back room, so Spot wasn’t startled when there was a screech and two more people crashed out of the room. Spot decidedly ignored the way his chest fluttered at the way Race’s face brightened up at the addition of the pair. “Finch! Buttons!”

The two new people whipped around at Race’s words. One shouted “Racer!” After a brief pause, the other shoved his friend back and shouted, “Racer? Racetrack!”

Spot wondered just how many people Race knew that Spot didn’t.

A bout of hugs and hushed whispers Spot didn’t quite catch later, Katherine padded forward on quiet feet and cleared her throat. “Er, hate to break the moment, but mornings coming soon and we need to get going.”

“Get going?” The unfamiliar kid called, head popping up from behind the counter. He rested his face in his hands, expression scrunching up. His motions were sudden and erratic, and Spot didn’t realize he was scowling at the kid until he felt Race’s elbow jabbing his side.

“You know we’ve been moving a lot. Racer and, uh,” Katherine broke off, glancing at Spot and waving a hand at him vaguely; Spot scowled at her in return- “ _him_ have been staying in a bunker with some people y’all probably know. When Jojo and Salem get back we’re going with them.”

Spot shifted his weight back and forth and pretended not to feel out of place while everyone else seemed to have a conversation just by sharing expressions. He wasn’t good at reading people, especially people who he didn’t really know (re: _everyone_ ), so he could only guess at what they were communicating to each other.

-

Everyone lounged around the building for awhile, Spot feeling like the odd one out among everyone. Race and the others were catching up with each other, and the youngest kid seemed satisfied doodling pictures in the dust on his own. Spot, on the other hand, was boredly pacing the concrete floors in wait for Salem and Jojo to get back.

His prayers were answered when the mentioned teenagers crashed into the building, throwing open the door. At first relief swamped him- they could get back now, _finally_ \- but he quickly tensed up when he actually got the chance to glance over them.

Three-Fingers- _no, Salem_ , Spot scolded himself- was holding open the door, panting heavily. Presumably Jojo was leaning against the doorframe, who was also fighting to regain his breath. Scrapes marred the skin on their cheeks, and Salem looked like he had a bruise beginning to form under one eye. He was the one to speak next, Bostonian accent seeping heavily into his words.

“ _Run_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> character notes  
> -salem is an older character. he’s got heterochromia and i’ve doodled him a few tomes in the past so if you’re interested hmu and i can link you to something  
> -y’know, all the oc’s in this are older characters.  
> -i’m really excited to introduce more characters. the bunker’s gonna be more crowded soon too, so thompson’s gonna have to figure out how to get an expansion or smth.  
> -davey, thompson, and slink are the only ones that aren’t actually living at the bunker. families, y’know


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slink talks more in this chapter than probably jack and blink combined total so uh

Race could have sworn the room darkened when Salem and Jojo entered. He didn’t spend any time thinking about it, though; immediately he was on his feet, instinctively grabbing for Spot and Katherine as the small group sunk into a silent panic.

Race barely comprehended Salem grabbing the kid by the collar of the shirt and hauling him out from behind the counter. Finch and Buttons had each grabbed a canvas bag from the back room and were following Race, Katherine, and Spot as they ducked out of the building. Jojo, who had been holding the door, peeled off after the building was empty.

Race’s mind was simultaneously running a mile a minute and also not comprehending anything at all. He was also the first one over the fence, scaling it with a frightening speed and helping someone else up- he hadn’t noticed who. There was the faint sound of dogs in the distance, which combined with a closer sounding metallic whir made everything seem more intense to Race.

Thankfully, the handful of teenagers was up and over the fence before too long and Race found himself being the one leading the way through the back-alleys and lonely streets. Occasionally a light would turn on briefly, startling the kids and prompting a direction change.

They ran for a long while, until their feet all hurt and just nobody could move faster than a hurried walk. Race cursed quietly when his vision began to short out, spots of light dancing in his line of sight. Spot apparently noticed and grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie after that, which Race begrudgingly accepted.

Thankfully, they made it into the tunnels by the time Race was completely blind. That on its own was a relief; everyone was a panting mess even before they’d reached the bunker door, and navigating the city streets blindly would have been a huge hindrance.

Race slumped down against the dirt walls when they reached the bunker door, still gasping and panting and not caring at the mud that likely streaked his hoodie. Spot banged on the bunker door a few times, quietly cursing when nobody answered. The metal was too thick to be able to hear through, so everyone just slumped down a bit lower and waited.

Time dragged by slowly. Race had started randomly flickering light, following specific patterns he was pretty sure only he knew.

A bit later, there was a faint noise from further down the tunnel. At first, Race and Spot were the only ones to notice, Spot drawing his knife and Race tensing up considerably. When it sounded again, though, the rest of the group picked up on it. All around Race, he heard shifting and felt people tense up next to him.

There was a shout of surprise from presumably Katherine, and Race threateningly flashed (at least, he hoped it was threatening; strobe lights aren’t that scary). Race felt the tunnel darken around him, to the point where he could see a little. Race was the one to shout this time as Slink just sort of appeared next to him.

“Oh thank goodness, it’s just you nitwits. Jack was freaking out because Thompson said he saw his family being interrogated or something so he ran back here but on the way he got jumped by who-knows who and he’s got a real shiner but he says he’s okay but a bit later Specs was all ‘ _we’re missing a few knives_ ’ and Thompson just nonchalantly said ‘ _oh_ , they’re embedded in some government agent’s arm’ and then Elmer lost his shit and that freaked out a few other kids too but then you motherfuckers knocked and Jack jumped like three feet in the air and screamed like a piglet on helium and Davey was trying to figure out what to do and I was just sitting in the corner watching all this- it’s still kinda chaos, the water system is broke again, there are vines growing on the bookshelf, and one of Jack’s paint cans caught on fire, did you know paint could catch on fire? But anyways i’m just watching this happen when I realize ‘wait, I have goddamn superpowers too, I can shadow-travel out and see who’s there’ and so I did and-“

“Damn it, can you shut up and let us in? I’ve never heard you talk so much, Jesus Christ on a bicycle.” That was Spot, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Because you fuckwits never talk to me,” Slink muttered, turning and disappearing into a patch of shadow again. The blanket of darkness evaporated, to Race’s disappointment, leaving him blind again.

He wasn’t able to dwell on it, though, because a bit after the door swung open.

Sure enough, it was havoc, at least judging by the sound. At least three people were screaming, it smelled like smoke and wet paper towels, and it was so noisy Race couldn’t locate who was doing what. As soon as The door was open, somebody screamed “What the hell!”, another shouted “Who let them in?”, and moments after that someone else yelped, “Damnit, guys, it’s just Spot and Race- Bloody hell, what happened to you two? Who’s with ‘ya?”

Race cautiously picked his way past the people, ignored the ongoing interrogation, and slipped into the back bedroom. Nap now, questions later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -now that things are a little more set up lets go over who has what powers, yeah? mkay  
> -salem has reality distortion. it sounds confusing but he can make people see things that aren’t there and once he gets better at his powers he can make things that are there not seem there. again, if you’ve read percy jackson, you know the mist? yeah its like he can control that but y’know a lot weaker. thats also why he looked like a hologram, he freaked out and tried to go invisible but he’s just not experienced enough with his powers  
> -katherine doesn’t technically have any superpowers since she wasnt tested on but she was valedictorian of her high school class and has never gotten a zero ever and if that isn’t superpower what is  
> -finch can pause and rewind time. he cant interact with anyone but he can spectate. this would be a great superpower though like imagine if you lost the tv remote? rewind time and follow urself to see where u put it  
> -jojo has a few v minor superpowers which he is eternally salty about bc it’s not “as cool” but here we go; he can memorize literally anything- look at it once? boom, memorized (except for faces faces are the exception. kind of a consequence like race having good eyesight + light control but hes blind during the day), he can also mimic talents, but he won’t be quite as good as whoever he mimics, like he can watch someone play a piano rlly well and suddenly be mediocre at it; he’s also got impossibly good aim with everything that’s not a weapon or being used as a weapon. ik that sounds weird but like it’s creepy as shit when he throws a key and it lands /inside/ the goddamn lock  
> -buttons can create portals to predetermined places. he can’t go that far bc he’s not practiced much with his powers but it was super helpful when someone (finch) tried to trap him in a broom closet. he can take people with him and such, so long as it’s not a lot of people. just one or two  
> -twitch (the kid, i haven’t used his name bc he hasn’t been formally introduced to either race or spot yet) is kinda weird. remember how i said he has really erratic and sudden movements? they call him twitch bc he kinda twitches a lot and every movement looks like a flinch. he’s got electricity powers though. not that major bc he hasn’t practiced much either but like he can shock people and sometimes for fun he makes katherine’s hair go completely staticky. he has somehow managed to keep his electric powers secret by not using them when people are around so everyone lowkey thinks he’s just... a failed experiment


	13. Chapter 13

Naturally, Race woke up with a foot being jabbed in his side. He didn’t open his eyes, though, instead rolling over and pretending to still be asleep.

Whoever had jabbed him seemed irritated at that response, nudging him a little harder. Race batted the foot away that time, before he heard Spot say, “Get up dumbass, you slept literally all day. It’s like six or seven in the evening.”

Race pushed himself upright and groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of one hand. “I have literally had the sleep schedule of an owl for weeks, why are you getting me up now?”

“Because everyone’s been talking to the new people except for Jack and Thompson, who are busy trying to find out how the hell we’re gonna house all these kids. Blink wants us to go get food and stuff since we’re the only ones who don’t care about the new people enough to talk to them.”

Race made a face as he pushed himself to his feet. “That’s a very problematic thing to assume.”

“Mhmm. Can we go now, this place is crowded as hell and Thompson is trying to train a carrier pigeon in the kitchen.”

“Sure,” Race snickered, grabbing Spot by the wrist and stalking out of the bedroom.

They had to dodge excitable teenagers, an exasperated Jack, flying pieces of grit, and one very uncoordinated pigeon before the pair got out the door. Fortunately, though, they made it out of the bunker and through the tunnels in one piece.

Thankfully, it was dark, so Race had no problems seeing. The opposite was true for Spot, who tripped so much Rave had to summon (because ‘summon’ sounded cooler) a ring of light around their feet.

They tussled a bit while they walked, quiet laughter filling the otherwise silent atmosphere. Race was about to attempt to grapple Spot’s arm behind him when Spot quieted down and pulled Race into a shop.

It was one of the few places they hadn’t been to, a small corner store attached to a bakery with its walls blown in. Spot carefully stuck an arm through an opening in a door- it once had been a window, but the glass pane was long gone- and fumbled around for the lock. Soon enough, he got it and was able to push the door open.

As soon as they stepped in, Race’s light beams fritzed out. When he couldn’t immediately get them started back up again, he started to lightly panic. Even when he got them back on a few seconds later, he was left on-edge.

Spot was poking around for anything wrong or out of place. The building was unnaturally still, even for a building that was abandoned- there was no breeze, no sound, no rustling, nothing.

Spot grabbed Race by the shoulder, motioning for him to follow as they pressed further into the shop. Race eventually drifted a few feet from him to dig through the store to find anything.

Race stepped behind an aisle, faintly surprised to find sheets hanging from the ceiling and hiding some things from view. He cautiously peeled it back, every muscle in his body tense in case a person was hidden behind it.

He sagged in relief when he realized nobody was there. It was still unusual, though- blankets were piled on the floor, forming a nest not unlike the one in the bunker. There was a bag too, as well as a few half-empty bottles of water.

“Spot,” Race called gingerly, not taking his eyes off the… whatever it was. “You might wanna see this.”

Race had noticed a few faint smears of blood on the blankets, all faded and far between. He finally turned away, shaking his head and letting the blankets go. “Spot?”

Creeping out from behind the aisle and away from the sheets, Racetrack turned just in time to catch a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

-

Spot had been closer to it, and thankfully he had noticed it as well. Both boys reached for their respective weapons, drawing them slowly.

Race slowly moved closer to Spot, adjusting his grip on the blade he had in-hand. Before he could get there, something flashed out from behind the counter.

Spot turned around immediately, making a lunge for whatever had moved. The thing- a person, it turned out to be- shouted, kicking at Spot and trying to get a fist in at him. Spot was attempting to pin the teenager down and defend himself, largely unsuccessfully.

Race ran forwards, noticing as the kid’s wrist flicked and the sudden glint of metal in his hands. He made to get a jab in at Spot, but before he could do any serious damage, a beam of light flashed at the kid. The kid made an animalistic screech, trying again to get a knife in at Spot. The only difference was that this time, he wasn’t able to see his target. Race tried to get another beam of light- because from the looks of it, the kid was only temporarily blinded and only in one eye- but he couldn’t. Race tried again, to no avail.

“What the hell!” Racetrack cursed, grabbing his own knife and moving in to help Spot. Before he got more than a few feet closer, though, he felt a stinging pain in his arm. Glancing down, he realized the shoulder of his shirt was torn and he had a good-sized gash on his arm. At first, he didn’t realize what had caused it. Making a rather unintelligible sound, Race turned and realized there was another kid. At first, Race thought it was just the first kid, and he’d gotten out of Spot’s grip.

Obviously, he was wrong, because a brief glance to the side confirmed Spot was still grappling with the first kid. When Race looked back, the one who had cut him was advancing.

With the inability to use his light powers (which still frightened him to the point where he felt completely cornered), Race’s only weapon was the switchblade. It had been useful before- the blade was about ten inches, which was pretty good to Race, but it was also a bit dull from use. He didn’t think it’d be the most helpful thing in a fight. Still, Race squared his shoulders and crouched down a bit, ready to lunge and try to get a fist or his knife in at the other.

Unfortunately for Race, he apparently wasn’t the only one with powers. The teenager in front of Race had what could only be described as a cloud of energy around him, scrambling Race’s ability to think straight as he got closer.

He barely comprehended the next few minutes of fighting, or the pain that followed whenever he got cut or hit. What Race did notice was the thud that sounded as he got grappled against the wall, plus the cool metal of what was probably his own blade being pressed against his neck.

There was another screech from across the room, and Spot was literally holding the first teenager by the collar of his shirt, despite being shorter than the opponent. That was when the cloud fizzled out, and Race realized he was, indeed, holding his own blade against his neck while his shoulders were being pressed against the grimy wall by the other. When he tried to free himself though, he couldn’t.

“Let him go,” Spot said, seeming completely unphased by the kid he was holding blindly striking out. “And I let this one go.”

Race felt the tension in his arms release, and he was once again free of moving on his own accord. To say that was relieving was an understatement.

Spot dropped the teenager, to which the person closest to Race flashed over to his side to help him to his feet.

“Who the hell are you two?” Spot hissed, crossing his arms. Race was only just starting to notice how often he did that.

“Mike,” The two people said in unison. After a brief moment and a staredown, they corrected themselves. This time, when they spoke- again, in unison- one responded “Mike” and the other one chirped “Ike.”

“Okay,” Race said, drawing out the word and glaring at them. He had an arm pressed to his shoulder to try and stop the blood.

“Mike Taylor,” One corrected, puffing out his chest. The other one said “Ike Cohen,” at the same time. Again, there was a look shared before they said “Mike Taylor,” and “Ike Taylor,” respectively.

“If you two don’t stop speaking in unison I’m going to call an exorcist.” Spot grumbled, carding his fingers through his hair.

“Sure, whatever.” Mike huffed, craning his neck and leaning forwards. “Tell me when you find one.”

Spot gritted his teeth, rubbing his cheek where Race could see a bruise forming. “Whatever. Obviously you have powers, so what the hell are you doing out here? Who let you out?”

“Don’t take us back,” Ike burst suddenly, seemingly starting to bristle. He was staring at the wall and not Spot or Race, so Race assumed that he was still blinded.

“We wont!” Race yelped, throwing his hands up. “Look, I have powers too!” He flashed a few times, again in a code he was pretty sure only he knew. And if what he said was a curse, then who could do anything about it?

“I know you have powers,” One of them said cryptically, tilting his head a little. Race had already forgotten which one was Mike and which one was Ike, but it was presumably the blind one seeing as he was staring at a shelf and not Race.

Spot and Race shared a look, before Spot set his hands on his hips and scowled at them. “How on earth did you break out? Nobody’s done that but Slink.”

“One, I don’t know who the hell Slink is. Two, they don’t exactly go around advertising who gets out, so how would you know?” Mike- or was it Ike? No, Race was pretty sure it was Mike- said.

Spot floundered for a bit, before huffing and settling on “Because we work for a rescue group. We know all the kids in this area who have gotten out of the labs.”

“Where were you when we were in there?” Probably-Ike hissed, to which Spot bounced back and raised his hands defensively.

“There’s tons of labs, friend, we can only handle so many.”

“Then what are you doing here? Don’t you have a rescue mission to organize?”

“We were getting supplies! Food between around twenty people only lasts so long.” That was Race, making a face at the two.

“What are you two doing out here alone, anyways?” Spot grumbled, beginning to tear off the sleeve of his jacket as a makeshift bandage for a gash on his leg.

“Not everyone gets to get rescued from some sorta fancy ally of teenagers, stranger.”

“No, but everyone deserves a chance to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its the dudes  
> -  
> to those that maybe don’t know, i’m starting a series of one-shots that gives a bit of backstory for the characters. check it out frens i’ve only got one done so far but like
> 
> -
> 
> character notes (mentions of religion later on so if anyone would prefer to avoid that you can skippy-skip i won’t mind!! its just headcanons)
> 
> -have i mentioned that davey is super tall because davey is super tall  
> -on the switch side pretty much everyone else is p short  
> -spot is the shortest followed by crutchie  
> -mike, ike, and jack are average  
> -as is like everyone else  
> -except for race he’s somewhere between short and average  
> -like short enough to be short but not short enough to be teased for it  
> -mike (at least mike in this chapter. they switch names to fuck with people, so i’m just gonna call them [name for this chapter]/[biological name]. so uh) mike/parker has chaos powers. out of everyone in this fic him and ike/peter are the most practiced with their powers so  
> -ike has... power-related powers. they kinda call it calmness powers?? because they dont know  
> -so mike/parker can confuse people and do lots of stuff that causes damage. hallucinations, temp amnesia, you name it  
> -ike/peter can sense people with powers. he can also disable most peoples powers (hence why race’s light powers fucked up). he can’t disable things that can only help though. so like crutchie’s healing powers are the only thing safe from this  
> -everyone thinks they have the same powers and the powers can both create/destroy because they pretend to have the same powers to keep up the illusion that they’re the same person y’know. because if you could tell them apart by powers that would be a tad pointless  
> -they both have a tattoo. just a single tattoo. it’s pretty minimalistic, just a single semicolon inside their left wrist. matching tattoos ofc  
> -jojo’s catholic but he’s like the only religious one other than crutchie and davey.  
> -he’s not strictly religious either though you cant really tell until he whacks you with a bible  
> -crutchie is nondenominational christian. super vague though. he believes in a god but he doesn’t really believe in any of the controversial + unwarranted negative things some christians believe (ex. all gay/trans/lgbt+ people go to hell. that shit? he doesn’t think at all. ya feel me)  
> -davey + the rest of his family is jewish  
> -pretty much everyone else is agnostic or atheist  
> -religion doesn’t play any part in this story though these are just personal headcanons so if it makes you uncomfortable don’t worry + i’ll mention it beforehand.  
> -if you headcanon a specific character as a certain relegion tbough hmu and i’ll try to weave it in. anything idfc i’m impartial in terms of religion


	14. Chapter 14

“Why are  _ we  _ the ones Blink always makes go and do stuff?”

 

Race had his arms folded as he walked through the tunnels, Spot padding beside him. It was a few days- almost a week, to be exact- since they had brought Mike and Ike back to the bunker. Despite being the the only two people who were wounded past a few scrapes, though, they were the ones who were given the task to go find Thompson.

 

Spot shrugged and made a small grunting sound, his feet dragging on the ground as he walked. It was extremely late, which would be the main reason why Race was wide awake and Spot was the opposite.

 

Nobody had seen Thompson in about a week. Now, this wasn’t actually that concerning- he’d been gone for longer than that, he had a life outside the bunker- but they were starting to get an overcrowding problem and Thompson was the only one who could fix that. 

 

Once they got out of the tunnels, though, they were at a loss. The entire city lay out in front of them, taunting. Neither really knew Thompson that well, and as such had absolutely no idea where to start looking.

 

After staring, dumbfounded, at the broken buildings and empty streets, Race muttered- rather unintelligibly, for that matter, “...Where do we even start?”

 

“We pick a direction and walk, I guess.” Spot huffed a laugh, but his expression looked less than amused. “His family is prominent here, right? We wander around until we see someone who looks like him or until we see the name pop up.”

 

“How on earth are we supposed to ‘find someone like him’? I know you mean, like, his family or something, but we can’t just pick a random person and interrogate them on where Thompson is.”

 

“Literally his entire family has blonde or white hair. It can’t be that hard.”

 

”Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

 

And so they started walking. Spot suggested going to the main square, which was as good a place to start as anywhere. 

 

* * *

 

 

The square was depressing.

 

It had once been full of life, full of color and sound and joy. Race remembered coming here as a kid, tugging his mother from shop to shop happily or chasing his friends through the streets as he dodged running into the street merchants. Now though, it was just as dead as everywhere else. Torn pieces of cloth littered the streets, once having been colorful banners and ribbons. Most everywhere was falling in on itself, caving in as if the weight of everything happening around the world was too much, even for some piles of stone.

 

It was dead silent, unnerving to Race. It reminded him being back in the shop a week ago, moments before he got jumped. Immediately after that thought, though, Spot’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “If you see anyone, don’t ask them about LeBlanc unless they look extremely suspicious.”   
  


“That is literally the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”

 

“Ah, but consider this- someone shady wouldn’t snitch, because they’re probably wanted too.”

 

“Touche.” 

 

It was rather unfortunate that the only people out were… rather questionable. That was to be expected, though. Only the people who had nothing to lose or who were dangerous enough to trust in their abilities to defend themselves would chance being out in the square.

 

There were only a handful of people out- someone who looked about their age, who disappeared immediately after Race had seen them, two short girls who were knife-fighting with each other as a taller girl and another boy watched, and a middle-aged lady hovering outside an alley. Race wouldn’t have approached any of them if he could help it, but Spot apparently had other plans. Race found that rather unfortunate, especially as he was being pulled across the gritty cobblestone that formed the street.

 

Thankfully, Spot didn’t end up dragging Race to the people fighting. It was unclear if they were playfighting or if the anger buzzing around them was real, but he didn’t want to find out.

 

They eyed the lady as they got closer. Their approach had Race wondering just how stupid this was, before he realized literally everything their group had ever done was stupid on some level.

 

Race hung back around the corner, angling himself so he couldn’t be seen. Carefully, he drew the dull blade and began cleaning it, working to sharpen it as he listened to Spot begin talking to the lady.

 

“Hello, Miss, have you seen someone my age around, white hair, freckles, kinda tan with weird eyes?”

 

There was silence for a bit, and Race could sense the tension even from around the corner. 

 

“Now, whatchya doin’ lookin’ around here for?”

 

“Personal reasons. You know the LeBlanc family?”

 

“Yessir, I do. You need what with them now?”

 

“Just need to find my friend.”

 

“Try down the road a bit.”

 

There was another pause. “..Thanks.”

 

There was the sound of footsteps retreating, and then Spot popped out from behind the corner and grabbed Race’s arms. Race, slightly caught off guard, barked out a laugh and uttered, “That sounded real helpful.”

 

“Yeah, she’s crazy prob’ly. We gotta get goin’ though if we wanna find Tom before the sun comes up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so some of the character notes are in the form of comments I've made on the google doc I write this on. flash to about 1 am, i'm scrolling down the 32 pages, and i just slowly scroll past a comment that says nothing but 'slink is a little bitch.' i found it hilarious.
> 
> whoever can catch the oc references, congrats.
> 
> also sorry this was mostly a filler chapter but buckle up things are about to escalate
> 
> one of these days spot's gonna grab race and he'll just quietly bat him away and mutter 'please don't touch me'


	15. Chapter 15

Race was uneasy.

 

Okay, that was an understatement. He felt like he was being watched, and the past few years of Race’s life taught him that he did  _ not  _ want to be watched.

 

At least he thought he knew who he was being watched by. He could swear it was the lady Spot had spoken to who’s eyes had been bearing into his back for the past half hour. A fleeting glance of her he’d caught when turning down an alley convinced him of that.

 

Race’s gut was telling him to run, to turn back and make a break for the bunker and tell Blink ‘ _ oops, sorry, we tried our best but we couldn’t find Thompson.’ _

 

He kept close to Spot, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything off. Race had glued himself so close to his friend to the point where he’d trip over the other’s heels or have to be swatted back like a clingy puppy. 

 

Despite Race’s jumpy nervousness, he wasn’t that aware of his surroundings. Instead, he was drowned on his thoughts, eyes trained on the ground when he wasn’t glancing nervously over his shoulder.

 

That took a turn for the worse when they rounded a corner. Spot stopped suddenly, looking up and saying, rather plainly, “Oh.” 

 

Race, on the other hand, bumped into Spot and made a startled sound of surprise that definitely  _ was not at all high-pitched, shut up. _

 

Glancing up, Race realized it was the lady they’d seen down back by the square. She was leaning against the brick wall, side-eyeing them as if by looking directly at the teenagers she was admitting to something. After adjusting her coat, the lady turned to fully face them, her expression calculating as she spoke next. 

 

“I may have misdirected you intentionally. I recognize you, though.” She motioned at Race, which did absolutely nothing to ease the fear in his chest. “I didn’t know what your business was. If you keep going that way, you’ll be caught by the city guard.” City guard? Race hadn’t known that was a thing, but he assumed it made sense. The city limits were under a mile away, and colored lights would occasionally flash from that direction.

 

“Go down the road to my right and take a left, there’s a small theatre right at the corner. That’s where you’ll find ‘im, more than likely.” The lady fished something out of her pocket and tossed it to Spot, who caught it. It turned out to be a set of keys that glinted in the weak moonlight. She didn’t say anything else before turning and walking down the road.

 

“What the hell,” Spot uttered.

  
  


“You really trust her?” Race hissed as he was being led through the alleyways and backroads. “That was suspicious as hell!”

 

“What choice do we have? We need to find Tom, and if we don’t get an expansion I’m going to lose it. You literally fell asleep  _ on top of me  _ a few days ago _.” _

 

“That’s great, but I still don’t trust her.”

 

“Whatever,” Spot said, rolling his eyes as he skidded to a stop in front of the old theatre. It looked to be in better shape than most places recently- none of the walls were caving in and the only broken glass nearby came from the ticket booth and not the theatre itself.

 

Race hovered outside the theatre while Spot shoved his way in, decidedly not going inside. He didn’t trust the lady, he didn’t trust this theatre.

 

At least, that was his mentality until an owl’s hoot sounded. Then he was very willing to duck into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short i'm sorry


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "thompson, what the fuck?" is probably the best way to sum up this chapter.
> 
> reminder that i thrive off of comments and kudos. every one i get means a lot to me, even if i dont respond to it xx

The entrance to the theatre was an incredibly narrow hallway. It had once been much wider from what Race could tell, but a single wall was caving in, leaving only about a two or three foot gap to squeeze through.

 

It was also incredibly dark, though that wasn’t a problem for Race. Soon the hallway opened up into the actual _theatre_ part of the theatre- Race wasn’t able to see into it, though, because Spot’s silhouette obstructed his view.

 

Spot moved into the theatre, which was completely dark. Race shifted around him to lead, seeing as he was the one who could actually see well enough to navigate the rubble.

 

The slope down to the stage was steep, and Race was reluctant to illuminate the area in case anyone unfriendly was there. So he couldn’t really see what was on the stage until he got closer- and when he did get near enough to see, there was quite a bit to take in.

 

Boxes and props were piled on the large stage. A few of the boxes were open, though from the angle Race couldn’t see in them. Wooden cut-outs, iron set pieces, all of it were haphazardly thrown out across the stage. It would be easy to hide in, reminding Race of the laser tag arenas he’d played in as a small child.

 

He glanced up, his gaze following one of the larger set pieces- it was a large metal piece, painted to look like a brick backdrop and a little over two feet thick. The paint was flaking off to reveal the cool iron.

 

That was when he noticed the hand draped over the side of the set piece’s top, then the form of a person laying. A mix of hope and fear jumped in Race. “Thompson?” Spot stage-whispered, apparently also having taken notice.

 

The person jumped, and there was a dull thud as his head hit something. “ _Tu connards! Que fais-tu ici? Merde, attends, sommes nous seul? Est quelque chose de mal_?”

 

“I don’t speak French,” another person hissed. The sound came from behind Race, causing him to jump and whip around. He couldn’t see anyone.

 

“Don’t shoot!” The person on top of the set piece snapped. Metallic clangs echoed through the theatre as they clambered down. After a dull thud, they walked out from behind the set piece, expression morphed into a scowl. It _was_ Thompson.

 

“You cockshit,” Spot grumbled, waving his hand at him. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Thompson retorted, right as the unfamiliar voice responded.

 

“Where better to escape government collapse than a theatre?”

 

Turning around, Race realized the person was conveniently shrouded in darkness. He was quick to fix that, a beam of light glaring down on the corner like a spotlight.

 

The person didn’t seem phased by their loss of secrecy, a hand on their hips as the light bore down on them. _They_ turned out to be  _her_ , a dark-skinned woman who looked to be about the same age as the lady Race had seen back at the alley. She had a small pistol in one hand, though she didn't look like she was about to fire it. In fact, the lady looked rather friendly, especially when you ignored the fact that she was armed and the way she stood and looked told Race she'd seen plenty of hell break loose.

 

“Thompson, really, what the shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the french is pretty much just thompson screaming at race and spot. [ie. 'you assholes! what are you doing here, are we alone, is something wrong', you get the jist]
> 
> -medda isnt wearing a dress in this au because of convenience reasons but she's totally still rocking the pink trust me
> 
> -this story is definitely going to have an end, but it's going to be more open. if i actually get to that point though, i may make a sequel told through recordings (they'd find a camera and record day to day life and such). i had an idea while ago of how i'd start it.
> 
> -i've been in a writing slump, so sorry this is so short. i'm also working on other fics, most of which are on my page if any of you are interested.
> 
> -have i ever mentioned that race's eyes are usually either super dilated or the complete opposite, no inbetween (usually depending on the time of day) because
> 
> -medda moved her props from the basement to the stage because there are a few kids that would drop in to hide and such. it's easy for kids to navigate the stage, but it's a lot harder for adults, so she did that to give the kids a place to hide/stall in case they were being chased or something. she thought ahead.
> 
> -remember how a lot of the parents disappeared to plot? medda's involved in that. ;)
> 
> -jack still knows medda but after the whole collapse thing he fell out of contact with her
> 
> \- :(


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *john mulaney voice* and life is a fucking nightmare~
> 
> but really though. now that this chapter is done and out i'm going to go watch his new special than k

The conversation that floated between the four seemed clipped and awkward, like everyone was dancing around their own issue. Race didn’t even know what he was trying to avoid when he responded, and he didn’t like that.

 

You could only go so long walking on eggshells before someone broke it, though, intentionally or not. The unfamiliar person of the group turned out to be the one.

 

“You look familiar.”

 

That was directed at Race, and for a few seconds, his mind short-circuited. That was the second time he’d heard that today. 

 

He managed to shake himself out, flashing a lopsided grin and chirping out, “Yeah? How so?”

 

“Just your features, kid. You sure I haven’t seen you ‘round?”

 

“Positive.”

 

“Hmm.” The woman tutted, then seemed to let it go as she angled herself away from them. Race let out a breath. 

 

“Whatchya doin’ here anyways?” Thompson’s voice cut through Race’s thoughts. He was back on a set piece- albeit a different one- with his head in his hands as he lay on his stomach.

 

“Lookin’ for you, Blondie.” That was Spot, tutting softly. “It’s crowded in the bunker.”

 

“You can’t call me Blondie. And, what, ‘ya want an expansion?”

 

“Why can’t he?” Race snickered, while Spot tackled the actually important aspect of the conversation and responded, “Yes. There’s twenty of us and three rooms.”

 

“My last name means Blondie, so you can’t call me Blondie Blondie. And they’re big rooms! The doorway’s open, it might as well just be one huge room.”

 

“One huge room divided into a nest of a bedroom, a kitchen, and a multi-purpose room. There’s also two closets.”

 

“I can get a second floor, probably, but you guys won’t be able to stay in the bunker during construction. You got a plan for where you’re gonna house twenty wanted children?”

 

“We’re not children,”

 

“The plumbing system broke because someone brought a cat in. If anything, you’re worse than children.”

 

There was a spurt of laughter from the other person-  _ Race really needed to get her name _ \- as Spot put his hands on his hips and scowled.

 

“Relax mate, I got ‘ya. You’ll just need to get the hell out of the bunker for a while.” Thompson slid forward and rolled over so he was essentially hanging upside down from the set piece like a battlescarred opossum, prompting an odd look from Spot.

 

“Yeah, okay. Where the hell do you want us to go?”

 

The lady was the one to speak next, leaning forward onto a metal pole and blinking. “You can stay here. We also renovated a place on Coney island that’s designed to house people if that’d be more suitable. There’d be other people around you kids, though.”

 

With a glance shared between them, Race and Spot confirmed that that was, in fact, an okay idea.

 

-

 

“ _ We gotta sneak, what, twenty-two kids to goddamn Coney Island?” _

 

Race and Spot were back in the bunker, safely. Shut in the bedroom with them was Thompson and Blink. Race figured Jack would be too if he hadn’t snagged a group to go above ground again before their return.

 

Race was seated cross-legged on the ground- well, some mattress or another. To ‘maximize space’, Jack had crammed as many of the things as possible into the room. There were no bed frames. Just mattress. It had been like this since before the rescue mission even occured.

 

He was blind again, which was  _ why _ he was sitting. He could both feel and hear Blink pacing- the boxsprings made quiet creaking sounds, and the floor seemed to dip rhythmically with every step taken.

 

It had to be getting close to noon. Race was  _ starving  _ and tired as all hell, and they’d spent hours in the theatre discussing.

 

“Actually, only-“ Thompson paused to count on his fingers. “Nineteen and a half. I’m gonna stay with my family, you hoes don’t need me like the six small children in my house do. And Slink will just appear there, you won’t have to worry about actually bringing her there. Probably, right? Yeah. And one of the new kids- what, Ribbons? I don’t fucking know- can teleport. That’s his whole power thing. I’m pretty sure he won’t be able to go the whole way so I only counted him as half.”

 

Race could sense Blink’s mutinous glare. “You’re flaking?”

 

“I’m not  _ flaking,  _ i’m helping from a distance. I can’t leave seven children on my parents in what is essentially an apocalypse, minus the zombies.”

 

“You said six a second ago, does your family just generate children?”

 

“I said six  _ small _ children. Then there’s Amélie, who’s old enough to take care of herself. They don’t have to worry about her.”

 

“Your life is fucking complicated.”

  
“ _ Your  _ life is revolved around hostage labrat teenagers. Don’t sass me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -what are the newsies gonna do without their npc merchant? idk probably find a new one  
> -so thompson's gonna start dropping out of the picture. he'll probably come back later because have i mentioned he has powers  
> -he wasn't tested on though  
> -and he keeps them secret so uhh  
> -now onto notes for actually relevant characters  
> -race doesn't like to grieve, he really doesn't. after getting taken, he managed to accept it fairly quickly. he assumes his mom is dead, which hurts, but past experience as a person has given him the experience he needs to mourn and manage to get over it quickly.  
> -he thinks about her a lot though. i don't delve into his thoughts too much so its hard to tell, but there definitely have been some times (ex. when comparing the stage and the square to places from his childhood, etc. im trying to write him from a more... personal viewpoint in upcoming chapters. maybe then we'll start to see some pining.)  
> -why does he grieve so quickly you ask??? ((//glances to kath's side of the family))  
> -'without death, life has no value'  
> -expect to see the next chapters be more... in race's head. it'll also get a little bit sadder then. he's good at expression control. (why do you think he's so good at poker my dudes???)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have an extremely small and pretty fluffy filler chapter. sorry it's so short I wrote it at 2 am at my friend's birthday party while we played paranoia.

_“You want us to go through the goddamn subway?”_

 

_“The cameras have been hacked.”_

 

_“You don’t think they’ll find it suspicious their cameras aren’t working?”_

 

_“No, because to them the cameras look fine. The path was reworked so the footage is from the subway system in DC.”_

 

_“And they won’t notice that it’s the same footage?”_

 

_“DC is monitored by a separate branch than the US. DC’s a territory, not a state, so it’s different.”_

 

_“Wait, hold on, how do you know these things-“_

 

Race groaned quietly. Thompson and Blink had been bickering for a while now, most of the conflict coming from Blink questioning how the hell Thompson organized this or how he knows what he does. Race wasn’t sure either, but he blamed Slink. Slink seemed to know everything.

 

Race pushed himself to his feet and stormed out (re: gingerly picked his way out of the room because he still couldn’t see shit). He didn’t say anything as he passed through the kitchen, instead squeezing into the electrical room.

 

* * *

 

  


Spot was helping people pack bags, boredom pricking at him. He could hear Blink and Thompson talking through the door, and about an hour ago he’d caught a glimpse of Race before he escaped out of the main rooms. That concerned Spot a bit, however much he’d likely deny it.

 

While Spot was figuring out how to fit eighteen tubes of toothpaste and a bag of cat treats into the tiny bag he’d been given, he felt a bit of warmth tap his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Albert making a face. “Have you seen Racer?”

 

“Electrical room,” Spot said, frowning slightly. There was a soft ‘thanks’ before Spot was alone again.

 

And if Racer approached him out of the blue an hour later- right before they were set to leave- to hug Spot, he wouldn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo i found this old sprace fanfic in my notes app. i reworked a bit of it but if someone would be willing to go and beta read the google doc before i post it and propose some edits thatd be great


End file.
